New Camera

So, I got the fabulous new camera for Christmas. It's a Canon Rebel and I'm so excited about it!
But I am poor at using it.
And, well, let's be honest. There's a lot of pressure to post beautiful photos. I feel like if I'm going to post a picture, it better be lovely. It had better be the most wonderfully staged, well composed picture that I have ever taken. And, that's a tall order. I have yet to even download the software onto my computer to take the pictures off of the camera and put them out there for use. I am behind, friends. I am not good at this. But! I am practicing. I have been taking ridiculous pictures of Steph, my deskmate(?), and I am hoping to just copy down a bunch of other fabulous photographer's setups for beautiful pictures and magically transform into a fabulous photographer myself.
Why is this so hard? Why do I have such high expectations for something that, in truth, is trivial? Frustrating.

Aside from my glorious new life partner camera, I got a lot of delightful things for Christmas! A bluetooth thing so I can drive and talk and not scare my mother to death. A beautiful scarf from my mother in law. A stellar new crockpot. (Incidentally, I felt incredibly old when I opened my crockpot and it was as if my wildest dreams had been fulfilled.) Eric bought me a beautiful sweater throw blanket from Target that I repeatedly showed him. He also got me a FitBit and I'm so looking forward to trying that baby out! It was a wonderful Christmas and I could go on and on about that, but not today. Today I'm going back to obsessing about figuring out how to determine ISO, Apeture, and Shutter Speed to take the most beautiful, blog worthy pictures that have ever been taken.

How was your Christmas? Did Santa treat you nicely?

Operation Red Bikini

I am not a self-motivated person for the most part. I don't get excited about working out and I don't have a 'game plan' in my head. I do best if I have someone screaming in my face, making me do the work. That is the only way I have ever lost real weight. I was a member of a gym where the instructors knew me and guilted me if I didn't show up and give it my all. I lost about fifty pounds and felt fabulous.
I have gained that and more back in the last seven years.
It's shameful, really.
So. I am taking the challenge from Southern Girl Gets Fit! A red bikini is so far out of my comfort zone that it kind of makes me dizzy, so my 'red bikini' will be a size ten. Nothing amazingly small, nothing out of this world. I'd even take a twelve, but the ten... that's my red bikini. The twelve would be like a black tankini, but actually wearing it in public. The red bikini is the holy grail.
Saying this makes me feel like a broken record. I'm forever promising myself that I'll get back into some semblance of a healthy shape, but then giving up at the first turn. Maybe this challenge will help me stick to the plan. I'm currently searching for a gym like the one I had before. One I can AFFORD to attend. I don't like working out alone. Like I said, give me someone yelling in my face to push harder and I'm gonna put it all out there. Give me a treadmill and some free weights and you might as well hand me a hot dog and a 32oz Ski.
After Christmas Eve I'll FINALLY have a camera and I will post a "before" picture and then I will weep. It won't be one of those like some brave women do where they're just in a sports bra and tight fitting pants. I'll be in yoga pants and a tank top, but trust. You will be able to see the horrors.
Hold me to this, yo. I need to get my ass in gear.

House Guests

Happy holidays!
I have pretty much been sucked dry lately. There is not an ounce of motivation in me to write, move, think, etc. All I want to do is eat delicious food and maybe nap? I'm not sure what the story is here.  I just really want to lie down most of the time, maybe in the bath, with wine. Whatever. Moving on!
My in-laws will be here a week from yesterday. They live in Mexico and we haven't ever had the chance to spend Christmas with them, so I'm super excited that they're driving up. Previously, when they've visited, we had a spare bedroom upstairs. Then we had Audrey and that became her room. They came when she was tiny, and we just left the bed up in there for them and let her sleep with us, but this time we decided to go a different route.
We built them a bedroom in the basement.
From scratch.
And by we, I mean my husband and his friend, my father, and my brother-in-law with some help from my uncle on one occasion. I mostly painted. And hung stuff up. But, whatever.
I wish I had a camera because the before and after pictures could be really stellar, but I'm not getting one until Christmas Eve. So, you'll just have to trust me. We've got a blue-grey thing going on the walls, which was a disappointment because it is NOT true to the color chip. We put up white curtains and used furniture we had around the house. I finally got to put up a pretty chandelier in a bedroom, so I'm pretty freaking pleased with that. (Eric insists on ceiling fans mostly.)
We also redid the stairs going to the basement. The area had previously been completely unfinished, with raw wood stairs and naked drywall on the walls. We had my brother-in-law texturize the walls in there and the bedroom and slapped some fantastic Palladian Blue (Benjamin Moore) paint up.  We bought treads at Lowe's and some 1xsomethings at our local hardware store and painted the treads black and the 1X's white to use as risers. It turned out pretty fabulous, if you ask me!
Anyway, that's what's been going on in Casa Bennett. Have you had any projects going on lately?

I hate running.

For real. It is the worst idea I have ever had. Why did I think this was something I could get interested in? I started reading all these running blogs. I read articles. I bought new shoes. Bought a stop watch. Now I want to do almost anything besides run. I'm on week 5 or 6 of the Couch to 5K and running has gone from being something I was excited about and looked forward to doing to something that I think about all day in the most dreaded way.
The thing is: I don't hate working out. I used to do a step aerobics class and I LOVED that. I did a kick boxing class and enjoyed it. Even weights and body weight training... I'm fine with it all. But running is owning my ass. It is making me feel small and pathetic. I want to quit.
I probably won't, though. Because my husband won't let me and my friend Stephanie will shame me from here to next Sunday if I do. But, I swear. This might kill me.

A Day In The Life

I'm linking up with Holly from "Where We Can Live Like Jack And Sally". (NOTE: I'm ridiculously excited that I figured out how to put the link in using her name.)  This is the first time I've ever linked up to something and I probably won't do it again for a while, I'm sure. It's a scary step to me, putting my name on a list with some other more experienced bloggers who actually edit and review their posts and all that good stuff. I'll get there someday, I'm sure, but right now I am a big fan of type it and hit publish and move on with my day.
Anyway.
Lately, my first alarm goes off at 4:50 because I am dreaming of getting up and working out in the morning - though this has yet to happen. Neither my husband nor I have heard this alarm either day this week, so I think my phone is conspiring against me. Next is a five a.m. alarm that I have decided is ten minutes too late to get up to work out and twenty minutes to early to start getting ready. So, the next one goes off at 5:20 and I haul myself out of bed and into my bathroom. I shower at night because I know that I'm lazy in the morning, so I wash my face, brush my teeth, do my hair and make up, and attempt to get dressed before I hear Eva call out "Mommy Daddy, I'm awaaaake" at three second intervals, with increasing volume until one of us goes in to get her up. She doesn't get out of her own bed because we've trained her to stay put. I don't want her wandering at night, but this means she also will not get out in the morning. Such is life.
If she doesn't wake up and call for us, Eric usually gets her up and either dresses her or lets her dress herself. (Incidentally, I'm so excited to have a kid who is old enough to dress herself.) I hurry to finish dressing and get Audrey up and fight her into a clean diaper. How is it that babies are so damn strong? That kid. It's like wrestling a drunk monkey to get her changed in the mornings. We all head downstairs together to get shoes on and all that basic stuff. Lately Eric's schedule has allowed him to help with daycare drop off, so I take Audrey into her room (where she runs to her teacher, then points to the door and orders me to "go") and he takes Eva (who we then have to wave at through the window for an inordinate amount of time) and we part ways there.
I have an hour long commute. It is the devil. Today I got gas and food on my way in. The gas was not necessary, but I wanted to eat and needed an excuse to stop and buy food. I wanted to eat because I was feeling crabby - I managed to forget my rings, my earrings, and I also had a giant hole in the ass of my pants and had to go back in and change. Fun morning.
I work as a receptionist at a law firm. I sit next to one of my best friends all day (Hi, Steph!) and really enjoy the people I work with. For the most part. In my private life, it's well known that I don't actually like people that much, so this is big... the fact that I enjoy the people I interact with on the daily. On a good day, Steph and I will say something phenomenally funny and laugh until we cry. Then we get to write it down in a book for future review when we are not so funny. I sometimes work out at lunch, if I can get someone to go and do it with me. I am not a fan of doing things alone. Yesterday I got in a half hour over lunch and felt pretty good about it!
Hour long commute home. Woo.
With the advent of The Running, my nights are a bit different than they used to be. We run Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Sometimes the kids insist on walking back home once we get to the sidewalk and last night was one one of those nights. It was also the night that Audrey discovered her shadow. She had to pause to check it out A LOT. It took us twice as long to get home because she was suspicious of that dark spot following her around.
Once we did get home, I made tacos - including a home made taco seasoning. Eva ate well and bragged about it pretty consistently for the rest of the night. Audrey... was not good and did not eat. That is all I will say about that. She was a tiny hot mess. We made our way upstairs for bath time and then watched The Voice while the girlies played. At some point, Eva decided we had to look at pictures of Santa Clause, so The Google found some for us and I taught Audrey that Santa says 'Ho Ho Ho' which she refused to say until I was talking to Eric and then said it, super fast, under her breath.
Bedtime went surprisingly well and I finished up my night with a shower and some Words With Friends. I turned off the television at 9:30 for the night. At this point, Eric had been sleeping beside me for a good forty five minutes. Because he's practically ninety.

Calorie Counting and all that jazz

I think it's time for me to start logging what I eat and counting calories. I am actually UP two pounds this week and that's with four days of running (or rather Couch25K running, but still) and push mowing my half acre, hilly lawn. I haven't been super with the food stuffs. It's not my jam. I like to eat. A lot. And I like good food that's not good for me. (I say that, sitting here, having just eaten some snack bag of cheddar cheesy goodness and drinking a Mountain Dew....)
The truth is, this is harder than it has been in the past. And I didn't ever intend for this blog to become just about my eating and running habits, but I'm hoping that if I keep writing it down, I'll keep it in the forefront of my mind instead of hiding from what's really going on.
What's really going on is this: When I focus on it, I'm excited about weight loss. I'm excited about eating better - feeding my body versus feeding my cravings and emotions. I'm excited about running and working out and teaching my girls to live a healthier lifestyle. I'm excited about getting fit. But, I'm not focusing on it ENOUGH. I'm not making it a major part of my life. It's an after thought. So, when someone asks if I want a cookie, OF COURSE I WANT A COOKIE. And then I eat it. And then twenty minutes after that I feel like a fool for having eaten it. I struggle with this. I struggle with not hiding from the fact that I KNOW I should not have that cookie. I struggle with acknowledging that it's not a good choice and then I struggle with making myself make up for those mistakes by doing better the rest of the day. Calorie counting is daunting. I'm not excited about that. But, I found a website, via another website, where you can plunk your recipes into it and it figures up for you about how many calories one serving would be. So, I'm going to try it out. Soon. I think for the time being I'll just be logging the food and exercise and trying to force myself to be a grown up and actually face my issues...
Do you count calories?

I can't come up with a title to save my life.

Just a rundown of a few things because I haven't posted in a while and that makes me a terrible new blogger person.

1. This weekend is going to be GLORIOUS. We've had a lot of really hot, really dry weather for a really long time in these parts and I cannot wait to enjoy the mid seventies tomorrow is offering. My middle sister and I (Hi BOO!) will be hitting up some yard sales in the a.m. and then going to my fervit (favorite) cousin's bridal shower. When we're done with THAT, hopefully the hubs will be done with Drill (he's in the Guard and this is drill weekend) and we'll head out to watch a parade and maybe visit with some friends.
2. We are not very social. We'd like to be, but we're lazy and parents to two monsters, one of whom (Eva) hates other people, so we never get out much. I'm ridiculously excited to go the parade and visit!
3. I'm up to running three minutes at a stint. This is not much to regular people, but it's a huge feat to me. For real. Two weeks ago I was struggling to run for one minute and on Monday when I ran the first three minutes I felt on top of the world. I thought I could do it again right away. I was wrong. But, still. I did it. And then when I did the second three minute set, at the end, Eva asked Eric "Why is Mommy running so slow?" And then I finished the last fifteen seconds, collapsed on a table and wept.
4. Having your child call you slow when you are working as hard as you possibly can is really disheartening.
5. I am getting the itch to do some kind of a project. There are a few things in my way. Money is tighter than normal because Eric hasn't been working any overtime, so blowing money on some kind of supplies is not really a priority. Also, time. Also, that's about it.

Anyway, have a glorious weekend. I'm hoping to start next week with a new game plan, adding in a few mornings a week with exercise at the ungodly hour of quarter to five.

What Counts

I ran yesterday. I had a slight headache and wanted badly to not run, but I ran and that's good. It was stupid hard and I'm not good at it and I was embarrassed but I did it. And, in the long run, that's what counts.
What counts is getting off my butt and moving more. What counts is NOT making excuse after excuse and finding 'reasons' to continue being lazy. I don't love working out. I don't love eating healthier. But, I will do these things. I will make these changes. And eventually, I will enjoy them more. And that is what counts.
I weighed myself the other morning. I won't tell you my weight because my shame is too large (though not larger than the number on the scale, apparently, or it would not have crept up so high). What I will do is say that my number ended in 6.5 and that my first goal is to just get that last number to a 0. I will be giving myself the last few days of this week and then the next two weeks to hit that number. This is the first REAL goal I've set for myself in a while. I think that the 6.5 pound loss will make a difference in the way that I fit into my clothes and the way that I feel, though it might not be a huge deal to most. It's a start. And making a start, as I've said, is what counts.